When Push Comes to Shuvv

Shuvv joins the adventure…

“Another dead end,” Shuvv swiped his ratty black hair away from his eyes, muttering to himself. Comparing the symbols carved into the side of yet another street merchant’s cart with the family crest burned into the rod slung across his back, he already knew the symbols would not match. “Damn street urchin.” Shuvv glanced up the alley to his right, watching the small figure who fed him the bad lead slip away nervously into the crowds.

A sense of hopelessness momentarily coursed through him as he recalled this last year since moving to Solace: the endless hours of combing the streets and the painstaking research through Arcane archives, all the time desperately seeking answers.

Shuvv pulled the black hood of his cloak over his dingy mane leaving the old marketplace to make the long walk home. Clenching his hands tightly across his chest, ice crystal clouds formed out of his breath as an unpleasant chill gripped him: an unnatural cold. His half-elf eyes swept quickly across the cobblestones, noting the location of several puddles of water intertwined through the handfuls of people still in the market, instinctively knowing to stand clear.

Spying a small party across the market of two heavily armored humans and a halfling tensely conversing with a man with ghostly blue skin, he discretely readied his rod in anticipation, “Something is not right here.” Straining to glean their words, Shuvv eyed the blue skinned man as he stepped into puddle, vanishing. From across the square, two bristly bearded men issued war cries, erupting the market in battle, one smashing open a barrel full of fish oil.

“This is not my fight,” Shuvv kept his head down, “and besides, this hardly seems like the right moment to first test my training.”

Movement on his flanks sent his heart into pounding as two black-robed, tattooed women drew wands, creeping in behind. On their belts, daggers with ominous markings hung. “Devil Worshippers,” Shuvv grimaced, an uncontrollable rage quickly building within him. A flash of fire ignited behind his eyes, and without thinking he raised his rod shooting bolts of dark energy and bursts of fire.

The battle is a blur in his mind, with sounds of exploding crates ringing in his ears and images of a Halfling repeatedly prostrating himself in fish oil stuck. Shuvv’s heart pumped madly, the battle concluded, as suddenly as it began. He scanned the marketplace, tallying the smoking charred carts, barrels, and stone walls. Crumpled bodies of devil worshippers lay strewn about. One of the heavily armed humans approaches Shuvv, “Are you in need of healing?”

“No thank you…although,” Shuvv focused on the frozen face of death on one of the devil worshippers.


“Nothing. It’s just… well, its just that I have never killed anyone before.”

The other two members of the human’s party drew near as the inquirer set a heavy hand on Shuvv’s shoulder. “Take heart, young warlock, as I witnessed the entire event and am quite certain you still haven’t…”



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